


it's okay i wouldn't remember me either

by Cypherr



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drabble, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, look i'm projecting vaguely onto tommy again guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cypherr/pseuds/Cypherr
Summary: sometimes he thinks//title by crywank//
Comments: 8
Kudos: 113





	it's okay i wouldn't remember me either

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure when i'll get the next part of 'hollow' out. it's got a lot of hurt/comfort and I'm just,,,, not in the right place to write comfort at the moment  
> massive tw for the stuff in the tags  
> honestly this is just me ranting about my life at the moment

Sometimes he thinks them hitting him would hurt less. Sometimes he wishes they would- if only for a semblance of comfort. ~~Of touch. Of stinging, awful pain that would remind him that he was more than a ghost among the living. An object set in place for people's amusement.~~

Sometimes he thinks the person who came up with the phrase 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,' had said it to spite him specifically. Sometimes he dreams of the pain their fists and palms and heels would cause. ~~Sometimes it brings a smile to his face.~~ Sometimes he has to hurt himself to remind his own mind that he's still human. Still alive. ~~Still clinging to the desperate hope that things will change~~.

Sometimes he thinks he loves them. Mother gives kind, warm hugs. Dad has kind smiles and sweet ~~honeyed~~ words. ~~Father has terrified him since he was old enough to feel fear. He never loved father.~~ Sometimes he thinks he's being overdramatic. Sometimes he thinks, as they sit together, laughing and joking like they're all one big, happy family, that he looks too far into things. That he's overreacting. That he's too sensitive.

Sometimes he thinks he never knew was love was to begin with. ~~Was it deadnaming and misgendering? Was it jabs at his too thin, skin-and-bones weight he couldn't control? His medical conditions? How he caused his family so much debt just by being born broken?~~

Sometimes he dreams of people he'll never meet and situations he'll never experience just for a chance of it. Of warmth. Of unconditional care. Of stability. Of comfort. ~~Of hope.~~

Sometimes he thinks of how easy it would be to kill himself. To blame it on a tragic mishap of a failed medical device. ~~Sometimes he wants them to feel his pain. To show them what they caused. To slit his wrists in the bathtub listening to the only things that ever gave him the warmth he craved- a spectacle for all to see.~~

Sometimes he thinks ~~fantasizes~~ about reaching out. About getting help. ~~Then he remembers he can't even get help for homework. They're always too busy. Or don't feel like it. It's okay though. He gets it. His siblings are more important.~~

Sometimes he wishes he'd never heard 'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,' because it never fails to haunt his every step. Why should his siblings get praised and loved for the very things he's shamed for? ~~Why should his little sister get to be called her preferred name when they refuse to call him his? To call him a he. Why should they get fidget toys and help with school when he's the only one with a diagnosis?~~

Sometimes he thinks about that night. The night he realized he was only hanging on by a thread. ~~The night mother drunkenly screamed and cried about how much she hated him. How much of a disgrace he was. How she wished he was never born. How he was on the last straw. How if he said another word he'd be out on the streets at fifteen years old.~~

Sometimes he smiles. He laughs. Pretends it's all okay. Sometimes he wakes up, keeps the blade from his wrists, just to make sure his dog gets fed in the morning. Sometimes it's because he hopes he might get an 'I love you.' ~~He never does. Not one that means anything, anyway. Drunken slurs in the early hours of the morning could never be comforting. Not when he's her therapist- as her sixteen year old son-but-not-quite.~~

Sometimes his skin burns as he remembers the times he thought he had found love outside his family that never would ~~. Sometimes he hates himself for being so weak. For believing their silver tongued lies. For being so desperate for affection he would let himself be assulted for a chance at human contact.~~

Sometimes he's not sure why he keeps clinging.

Sometimes the only way he can keep living is to carve into his thighs until he's numb.

Sometimes he thinks that things will never get better. ~~How could they? He had no real skills. He's an anxious mess and he's sure his 'friend(s)' only pity him. He had no real home and nowhere to go to. No plans. No goals. Just the here and now. He's not sure if he dreads the future or the past more.~~

Sometimes he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this is so vent-y  
> also literally the only vague mention that this could be tommy is the 'friend(s)' part because I don't actually have any of those  
> this was just an excuse to rant


End file.
